


Change of Key

by retrovertigo (ellameno)



Series: The Great Fire [22]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Canon Rewrite, Developing Friendships, Espionage, F/M, Feelings Realization, Freedom Fighters, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Grief/Mourning, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Nonbinary Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, The Railroad (Fallout)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo
Summary: As a new threat looms, Nora and her allies are called to action. Can the synthetic detective get his head in the game?
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Series: The Great Fire [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/571771
Comments: 32
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone keeps asking me if this series is over, and it's not I'm just............... spending a lot of energy on getting thru the day lol current times are not kind to disabled folks. I had a lot more work to do on these than anticipated, and zero brain-cells to do it with. A thousand and one apologies for this. I hope you're all well.
> 
> CWs: discussions about grief, and crude humor

If the Railroad had hand-delivered her an errand, it was most likely critical, and the fledgling agent knocked it out with urgency. The key in the envelope bore the name “Porter”, and Nora recognized it as the cleaners in Lexington. In her former life, she once sat in only a slip and blazer, waiting to get a coffee stain out of her dress an hour before a client meeting.

Inside its apocalyptic remnants, she merely peered inside the dead-dropped package found stuffed in the pocket of a moth-eaten conductor’s coat, before rushing out the door with a bewildered Nick in tow. The Railroad needed her. Her son needed her. One of Deacon’s silly voices rang in her head; “ _No time to dilly-dally, pal!”_

Before she knew it, Nora pushed the heavy door of the underground HQ open, and as it swung open Nora was unsurprised by what greeted them. Her _other_ mentor lounged on the stone stairs, reading a mammoth tome by lantern light, and she suspected he’d posed himself there.

“Well, well, well,” Deacon said, not glancing up from the pages. “If it isn’t Mr and Mrs Synth, back from their honeymoon.”

“Very funny,” Nick said. “Your book’s upside down, y’know?”

“It keeps me sharp.” Deacon closed it, unfazed. “When committing espionage, you can’t always read your enemy's top secret documents at a perfect angle.”

“Uh-huh.”

He turned his attention to Nora, strangely humorless. “That was a little fair weather to run off somewhere I couldn’t reach you.”

Nora gave him an unconvinced look. “I figured you stalked me well enough to know.”

“Oh, I knew where you were,” he said arrogantly. “But getting in as a seasonal hand would’ve been quite a long con.”

“Damn,” Nick hissed. “Well, at least I won’t lose sleep over the Hagney family’s security system.”

Deacon beamed. “So I was right!”

Nick looked mortified for a moment, and then waved a hand. “Oh, _buzz off._ ”

“He’s trained in interrogation, Nick, there’s no use keeping secrets from him,” Nora sighed.

“Location aside,” Nick said back to Deacon, “I thought she was a part time hire.”

“Yeah, but this was before I realized how useful she is.”

“She’s not a pawn,” Nick said.

“Mr Valentine, I respect your concern, but you're blowing this out of proportion.” Deacon shrugged at her. “Just stay somewhere where we can pass notes in class, OK? The game’s _big time_ afoot and I can’t have you fucking off to Key Largo.”

“Good God, was that a film reference?” Nick asked.

“It’s a play reference,” the agent said snootily, and Nick seemed thrown by the correct trivia. “What’s a film?” Deacon flashed a scandalized look. “Oh, you mean those nasty things they show downtown with the naked people? Sir, this is a _church_.” He turned dramatically and descended the steps to the lower chamber.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Nick said.

Nora stifled a laugh. “Do they really still make pornography?” she asked Nick.

“How should I know?”

“Didn’t you have a thing with a lady who gets nude for a living?” Nora replied skeptically and followed Deacon.

“Irma? First off; it wasn’t a _thing_ , I’m a _robot_ —”

“I’m just saying it’s not like you’ve lived under a rock in a Vault this whole time.”

“Secondly, what she did was all about the skill of what you don’t show.”

Nora turned to him. “You like burlesque? That’s cute.”

“This is inappropriate workplace conversation.”

Deacon smiled. “I was in a Golden Globes film. I’m the bald dude with the ass that won’t quit.”

“ _Enough_.”

\---

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Deacon announced as they entered the common room, to all its occupants, which appeared annoyed. “I present to you, the maiden who saved our asses!” He dragged Nora into the light and she froze like a bewildered doe.

Surprise and relief flooded the faces that surrounded her, and they murmured with interest. Glory scrambled to unearth something from under a pile of documents, but Tinker Tom batted her away, grabbing the pink cardboard box himself. He then offered Nora a snack cake from inside it.

“What?” Nora smiled. “What’s this for?”

“Deacon said to save it for your return,” Tom said, “but I wasn’t sure you were even coming back.”

“That shit is a delicacy,” Glory said, snatching one for herself, “so I hope you appreciate our, uh, restraint.”

Deacon smirked. “Yeah, don’t say we never did anything nice.” He took the box from Tom and passed it around the room, but not without holding it out of Carrington’s reach, insisting he say ‘please’.

Tom continued squinting at her. “Guess my armor mods worked for you.” He pulled down his magnifying apparatus from atop his head and inspected Nora up and down. “You really are in one piece, ‘cept for the face.”

Nora covered her lips again, and Nick scoffed. “C’mon now,” he scolded, “don’t comment on a woman’s face.”

“Why?” Glory asked as she chewed, her mouth a mess with frosting.

“ _Right_ , I forgot you all blow yourself up for a living.”

Deacon appeared again. “He’s right. Remember that next time you all say my rouge doesn’t match my complexion.”

“It doesn’t,” Glory said.

“What do _you_ know —? I’m the only one who gussies up around here. What do you call this make-up technique, _a toddler’s birthday party?”_ Deacon waggled a finger at her cake covered face and she slapped him away.

Glory wiped her mouth and turned to Nora. “I’m just happy to have someone _normal_ back in HQ.”

“I’m just happy to be _alive_ ,” Nora said.

“There’s even more reason to celebrate,” Glory said. “Believe it or not; there's three more refugees on the way out. Three!”

“She’s been dying to tell you,” Carrington said in a monotone, not looking up from his computer.

“C’mon,” Deacon said, “it’s nice to see Glory happy for once. She’s finally growing out of her terrible teens.”

“Better than being sixty, _like you_ ,” Glory said coolly.

“I told you she’s a ruthless killer,” Deacon lamented.

Carrington shook his head. “ _Anyway,_ it’s better than when they sent us five synths, but over two is always a tall order.”

“That’s why we needed an extra heavy,” Deacon said to Nora. “It’s summertime and night only lasts so long.”

Glory puffed up. “You and D, me and High Rise, Viper and Savannah.”

“We’re scattering this time,” Deacon added.

“How soon?” Nora asked.

“This weekend,” he replied.

“ _Woof._ Alright.”

Desdemona approached, less joyous than her cohorts. “Yes, I’m glad spirits are so high — and we are indebted to you — but I think you have something else of ours?”

“Oh!” Nora remembered the drop and held out an envelope. “Here.”

“And?” she pressed.

Nora looked to Nick, who also seemed confused. “Um. There was nothing else.”

Desdemona stiffened. “You’re… certain. No caps? No ammunition?”

Nora meekly shook her head, worried she'd made a mistake in her haste. “Just some laundromat tokens and a few packs of gum.”

“Don’t despair, Dez,” Deacon said. “Do you really want the others giving up their precious supplies when we have our own civvy cash cow right here?”

“I mean,” Nora’s eyes darted. “Scarcity sometimes makes it hard to find things, but I’m not exactly hurting for _money_.”

Nick shrugged. “If you need a supply run, I’d be more than happy to scavenge between cases.”

Desdemona lifted her head. “Yes, I… I suppose you all have a point.” She checked the wax seal and nodded, passing it to the spy. “Deacon; my office.”

“Sure thing,” he said obediently, before tearing into the envelope. “ _Dear Deacon, I admire you so much, you are so handsome and…_ ” he read aloud as he followed Desdemona into the private room.

Glory popped in again. “So. You’ll never guess who just escaped the Institute.”

“I dunno. Bigfoot?”

“I don’t know them,” Glory said in earnest. “But, I do know my best friend in the entire world finally got out.”

Nora grinned. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

“I don’t understand why you care so much, Glory,” Carrington said and Glory looked annoyed. “Unless she joins the Railroad too, you’ll never see her.”

“She _will_ ,” Glory snapped. “She’s sensitive, but that’s why I know she’ll join.” Glory nodded to Nora. “She’s kinda like you, sis.”

Nora smirked. “Oh, so that’s why you’re nice to me — I remind you of your best friend.”

“Don’t get cozy. Maybe the tables will turn once she gets here and I don’t need you as a stand-in.” Glory punched Nora in the arm. “Just kidding; I told you we’re kin now.”

Tom looked at Nora as well. “I was kin once. _Once_.”

“I never used the word,” Glory said. “I just needed the mini-gun mod, and you needed someone to talk about your _spacemen_ at.”

Tom batted an annoyed hand and went back to his work.

“Whisper?” Desdemona called from the doorway and Nora didn’t react until Glory nudged her. “A word in my office?”

“Y-Yes,” Nora squeaked, forgetting she had a code-name.

“You too please, Mr Valentine.”

\---

Desdemona sat at her desk while Deacon waited in the corner, his arms crossed with intensity, indicating he was in business mode.

“Whisper, we have questions for you,” Desdemona said.

Nerves struck her, like when her mentor at the firm called her in to deride her work. “Is this about the drop? I —”

“No. That’s for our eyes only.”

“And kudos for no peeking,” Deacon added.

“This is about you, and what you discovered in the Den.”

“I thought Amari would pass on that info to you,” Nick asked.

“Mmn, she did, but we’re a stealth operation, and _you_ are a detective.” Desdemona opened a file. “We’ve heard all about this ‘Dr Virgil’. We’ve asked a few of our refugees about him, but have little to go on.” She looked up with a severe expression. “We wanted to hear your take on the matter before we head into the crater.”

“I see,” Nick said. “First things first, I got a question for you intelligence folks.”

“And I can't guarantee you have clearance for an answer,” she parried.

“Well, it's more of a hypothetical than a court order. Are we certain Virgil is on the lam, and it's not just a red herring?”

“What do you mean?” Nora asked him. “We heard Kellogg and the Courser talk about the mission.”

“Yeah, but maybe Kellogg was onto something about them making him bait.” He looked at Deacon. “Maybe they were trying to extinguish his contract while also making sure she got off their tail for good.”

Deacon scratched his jaw. “Honestly, sending you into the crater of the Glowing Sea sounds like a genius plan.”

Desdemona flipped through her papers. “P.A.M. says it’s over 90% certain that the Sea is the only place Virgil could hide undetected.”

“But only if there _is_ a Dr Virgil, right?” Nick asked.

Desdemona furrowed her brow. “So what do you suggest?”

“I mean, I said what I said earlier — If Virgil is out there, and we send her into the Sea, there's no certainty we even get her back.”

Nora winced, and Desdemona shook her head. “We wouldn’t do that to you, Whisper.”

Deacon shrugged. “‘Cause like, no offense, but even if you were our pawn, it’d be a stupid move.”

Nick scowled back. “If you minimize her like that again, I might just pull her out.”

“If you keep being her keeper, I might ask you to leave,” Deacon said. “She’s an adult.”

“I know _that_ — But it’s dozens against one down here, lemme even out the field.”

Nora held out her hand. “I’m in this. As long as we’re all being smart.”

“I’m _very_ smart,” Deacon countered. “I’m MENSA material. Someone in Mexico told me that.”

Nora’s guard fell and she let out a snort, to which Deacon smirked.

“Let’s be serious here,” Desdemona said. “We have a trail and the sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“The Sea feels like a trap to me,” Nick said. “And I’m not saying that because of her, I’m saying it as someone who unfortunately fell into one recently.”

Deacon pursed his lips. “I did have an idea. A human going in is probably a no-go, but we could send something else in. Maybe if you’re so worried about her, you could go in wearing a radiation suit?”

“Why a suit?” Nick asked.

Deacon laughed. “Ever read about a place called Chernobyl? We'll need to bury you in a concrete coffin.”

Nick made an uneasy noise. “Listen, I didn’t really sign up to be one of your errand boys, so you’ll have to excuse me for not being on board. I may be a synth, but I also have a career to attend to and rent to pay.”

“Understood, but _c’mon man_. You’re here because of her, and if you don’t want to follow the only breadcrumbs any of us have…” Deacon blew out air and shrugged. “I guess _we’re_ the Hansel to her Gretel now.”

Nick straightened up with ire, though Nora presumed it was standard Deacon baiting. “Alright, noted,” Nick grumbled. “It’s just a big ask.”

“You would’ve done it if _she_ asked,” Deacon muttered.

Nora turned to Nick. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m sure we can figure something out.” She couldn’t hide the stress in her voice, and Nick sighed.

“I just have to… digest the idea.” He turned to Desdemona. “But for all we know, it winds up a wild goose chase and I stall out in ground zero because my circuits got fried.”

Nora’s eyes widened. “I don’t want that.”

Desdemona nodded. “I suppose we could attempt more research. Perhaps find more volunteers. Though I’d hate to rid ourselves of any reserves in this dire time.”

“Like, P.A.M. wouldn’t care if we sent her on recon in a goddamn _volcano_ ,” Deacon said, “but I can’t sacrifice _my_ best bot either. _She_ can predict the future.”

“Well,” Nick replied, “did she predict our friend ‘Whisper’ or that she’d take out Kellogg point blank?”

Deacon exhaled. “We’re just doing the best we can, pal.”

“Maybe stop putting all your faith in a computer program.” He raised a finger as they stared back. “And yes, I see the irony in me saying that.”

“If you don’t mind putting your quest on the back burner, we can take more time to weigh options,” Desdemona said. “But the refugees are in motion, and we can’t stop them now.”

“For that, I’m at your disposal,” Nora said.

“But not literal disposal,” Nick added.

“I know everything helps us _all_ get one step closer to our goals,” Nora said.

“Aw, she’s a champ, isn’t she?” Deacon held up a hand. “Now that we’re all on the same page, can I talk to ‘our girl Friday’ alone?”

“You’re kicking me out of my office?” Desdemona asked blankly. “Really?”

“Just for like two seconds,” Deacon said with a smile. “Just some chit-chat with my gal pal.”

Desdemona sighed and Nick looked concerned. “Alright. Five minutes, and then I need to go over more variables with P.A.M.”

“She has legs, Dez —”

“Alone.”

“Alright.”

\---

Nora liked Deacon — most of the time. The way his personality could change at a moment’s notice still left her unsteady in their ‘friendship’. Sometimes she feared that he was impossible to form a mutual bond with. When she saw the mask slipping it only revealed another mask, of perhaps an infinite number, like he wasn’t a person but a rotating collective of friends and foes.

Perhaps it was his defense, or a glitch in a program, or maybe he simply lost his sense of self after being so many people. And from what his cohorts said, one day the mask would literally change, and the enigma known as ‘Deacon’ would grin back from an entirely different face. The thought made her head spin.

He took Desdemona’s spot and put his feet up on the desk. “I’ve always wanted my own office. Kinda hoped for one with a nice view of the city. But we can’t _all_ be High Rise, I guess.”

Nora swallowed and settled into the chair across from him. He seemed agreeable today, despite the minor scolding she’d received.

Deacon read her unease and raised a brow over his mirrored shades. “You doin’ alright, compadre?” Nora nodded. “Did we freak you out with the radiation stuff — Listen, Pammy doesn’t understand the human variable of equations, y’know? Dez relies on her _way_ too much.”

“I’m fine, really. I’m just… curious why you needed me alone.”

“The boss and Valentine were just too distracting. For you.” Nora peered at him. “When people we want to impress are around, we tend to… bullshit a little. I get it; I’m her royal majesty, queen bullshitter the first.” He took his feet off the desk and held himself more professionally. “And I know I said that I don't like the schmoopy goopy heart-on-sleeve stuff, but… don’t feel like you need to bullshit with _me_ , OK? Like, I don’t need your fucking life story, but if you don’t want to do a mission, then for the love of God _let me know.”_

“Have I done anything to make you feel like I’m not in this?” Nora asked defensively.

“Besides the little vacay? Not particularly. But when I praise you for going above and beyond, I’m kind of doing it out of skepticism. Which I admit, I’m slowly weaning myself out of thanks to your stellar performances out there. So props.” He brandished a smug grin. “Like, _I_ knew you had potential, but you had to have been a stone cold badass to take on Connie.”

“He had my child, what else would I do?” Nora replied somberly.

“Yeah.” His smile faltered before vanishing completely. “Yeah that’s…” He leaned in and the harsh office light deepened the lines in his face. “Can I ask you a question? Like a really serious question? One that I need the utmost honest of responses from.”

“I’m always honest with you,” Nora said and Deacon tapped his fingers on the desk, almost like her answer agitated him.

“If one of the _bad guys_ promised you your kid — say, _the Brotherhood_ — but you had to betray us... What would you do?” Nora opened her mouth and Deacon pointed another finger. “And be honest, because if I smell even a hint of deception from you... I might just change the locks on the old HQ.”

“Your password sucks,” Nora teased, trying to feign confidence.

“That’s the point, it’s reverse psychology. But don’t derail, I’m dead serious right now.”

Arguably, there was something comforting about a group like the Brotherhood with superior firepower on her side. People who didn’t hide in shadow in dwindling numbers, but could send in the cavalry by air, announcing their mission by loudspeaker, so confident in their success. But the road of virtue was always the hardest one to travel. She couldn’t break a promise to the Railroad, and her true loyalty laid with Nick.

“There’s…” She ruminated on the answer, and Deacon's jaw tensed with impatience. “There’s always an element to my work with you of doing things for the greater good. My life... means a lot. My kid means so much more. But…” Nora avoided Deacon’s mirrored shades, fixating on the catacomb wall behind him. “I know in my heart of hearts that with strong allies by my side, I can get him back. And... I believe in my friends. I believe in _your_ friends. I’ve already come so far in the short time that I’ve known you all. You’re selfless people, and _survivors_ , and I don’t want any of your blood on my hands — I had a hard enough time taking out the guy who killed my husband.”

The lump in her throat grew again, and she paused, trying to swallow it.

“That’s fantastic lawyer talk, pal, but you still haven’t given me an answer,” Deacon said.

“The answer is no,” she croaked, like it was bitter on her tongue. “I wouldn’t betray you, even... Even though it’d probably kill me to lose Shaun again. I can’t say if I could go on without him, but…” Nora’s cheeks became wet, and she hated herself for showing such vulnerability to a man who had none. “The guilt would definitely kill me if I got him through those means.” She hastily wiped them. “Even if my loyalty to you is conditional, it’s _unconditional_ to Nick. And I could never look him in the eye again. _That_ is what would kill me.”

“Jeez, OK…” He said softly. “I… I didn’t mean to make you cry, dude.”

Nora mopped away the rest of her tears. “No, I understand —”

“Hey. Like…” He made a a sweeping gesture, like he was trying to collect words. “Fuck, that’s... that’s _heartening_ that you believe in us. Some days _we_ don’t believe in us. It just... It makes me want to work harder.” There was a sobriety in his tone that couldn’t be forged, and it made Nora choke up yet again. He cringed like he’d made a mistake and hesitantly waved his hand. “T-There there, pal. I’m not saying I think we’re doomed. It’s just a rough patch. We’re all freaked out, but we’re gonna win.”

The words touched her, much too soft for a man who thought flinching at gunfire was a weakness, but she recalled his other moments of tenderness. Like his respectful focus when she spoke about Shaun. When he distracted wounded comrades with his jokes. Or when he dropped caps in beggar’s hats when he thought she wasn’t looking. Sometimes the latter made her wonder if he was testing her perception, or her honesty, or even her required selflessness.

Nora took a breath. “Can I ask _you_ something now?”

Deacon mulled it over. “Only if it makes you a better employee.”

“It does,” she said Deacon gave a nod. “How do you know I'm not already a double agent?”

“You might be good at bluffing, but there's this... deadness in your eyes when you're telling a big lie.”

While Deacon's trust in her came as a relief, it raised one concern. “Am I really obvious when I lie?”

He leaned back in the chair. “ _Ehhh_... To me, because, like, this is my fucking job. But to some schmo on the street? To even Carrington? Smooth.”

“Well, I am running kind of a long con myself,” she said, thinking back to the charade at the farm.

“Oh?” He tucked a fist under his chin. “ _Do tell_.”

“I can’t, Nick would kill me.”

“Oh, so this con involves Nick as well?”

“Don’t pry into personal stuff if you’re not willing to divulge something as simple as your birthplace.”

Deacon raised an eyebrow. “Touche. But I’m also a wastelander. Half of us don’t even remember having parents.”

“That’s fair,” Nora gently conceded.

“No, don't feel bad for me, jeez.”

“I mean — I didn't know my parents well either.”

Deacon waved his hand. “Look, I don't need to know — We don't need to connect on that level.” Nora frowned. “We have enough in common because we're not assholes, right?”

“Just... You know, sometimes life seems worse than it is because you feel alone. You're not alone.”

“Well. Duh, there's like eleven people down here, I can barely find time to myself.” He stood up. “Anyway, Dez is gonna kick down this door any minute so we should probably part ways. By the way, we finally cracked the combo on your predecessor’s locker, so Tom’s got some more goodies to test out at the armory.”

A thought struck Nora’s mind, like a puzzle piece of her recovery fitting into place, and she reached into her bag. “Wait, one more thing,” She found Kellog’s pistol and held it out. “Here.”

“What? Is this a holdup?” He raised his hands. “All I got is some chewing gum and lint —”

“It's Kellogg's,” she breathed. “You gave me your friend's gun, so, here. It killed my husband; I don't want it. But maybe you'd like a trophy.”

The goofy mask vanished. “Oh.” Deacon took carefully, it as if it were something delicate. “I, uh... I'll make sure, uh…” His voice trailed off. “Something appropriate.” Nora nodded. Deacon swallowed. “You're good though?”

“I'm fine.”

“Cool. I... I mean, I figured. You're like. Tough.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Nora reached for the handle.

“Hey. One more thing,” Deacon said. She turned and again Deacon had an odd vacant look on his face. “I was born on the side of the road, on a trade route in Northern Mexico. No bullshit. Mid-day, during a heatwave. That’s why I freckle instead of burn.”

“I think the _last_ part is bullshit.”

He smirked. “Well, I’m not a scientist.” Desdemona shoved her way into the room with annoyance, and Deacon shot Nora one last finger gun. “Let’s make this the best summer ever,” he cloyed.

Nick eyed her with crossed arms as the door closed on the top agents once more. “What was that all about?”

“Loyalty test,” Nora said.

“And?”

“I think I passed.”

\---

From the preceding conversations, Nick wasn’t certain how long the Railroad would need Nora's services, or what they required of himself — not to mention the dangers involved in her next mission. But he wouldn’t leave this dusky catacomb until he had concrete answers, even if its occupants had to drag him out for confidentiality.

After a half-hour’s wait, Desdemona returned from her office and they directed the group to gather around the stone table. The agents complied with dragged feet, and Nick surmised that these weeks had worn them thin.

“Glory, put the food down,” Deacon said as she showed up with a dinner plate. “This is a meeting, not a buffet.”

“I just made pintos. You know they’ll get all gross and crusty.”

“It’s unprofessional — _look, you just dropped some!_ ” Deacon hissed, hopping back like they were hot coals.

“It’s a dirt floor,” Glory parried, kicking some over the mess.

“Are you a synth or are you a feral?”

Dr Carrington cleared his throat to stop the sibling-like quarreling.

“Let’s all turn our heads and acknowledge the ship on the horizon,” he said. “As if the increase of Institute activity wasn’t enough, we now have an outside group of murderous fascists on patrol.” He pointed to a toy plane on their map. “They’ve taken over the airport, which means our best bet is to keep our routes as North as possible.”

“Super Mutants are on their exterminate list as well,” Deacon said, now focused and making sure Glory was out of his eyeline. “But so far they all goose-step _around_ the blockade like a bunch of chickens. If we cut through our normal path, I think we’ll be free and clear.”

Nora held up a finger. “I don’t know what your path is, but their patrols might stretch further than you think.”

“Why, you saw them on the road?” Desdemona inquired.

“I had one literally waiting on my doorstep.”

Desdemona went wide-eyed. “They’re onto you?”

“No, they actually want to recruit me,” Nora replied. “Deacon knows about this, but I had a run in or two with them in my first month out here. I just assumed they were your version of the military. I didn’t realize they were like, fascists.”

“ _Mmm_ , same diff,” Deacon said.

Carrington peered at her. “But they trust you?”

“I guess,” Nora said. “They seem eager to make me their poster child for God knows what.”

“Told you all; she’s popular!” Deacon added.

Desdemona stared at their map. “I realize it’s not top of the to-do-list, but if it’s _their_ idea to accept you into the ranks… they’ll be the ones letting a fox into the coop.”

“Speaking of coops,” Nora said, “I got an invitation to the airship.”

Deacon slapped his hands together like a gambler whose horse pulled to the lead. “What did I say?”

Carrington rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, alright.” He looked at Nora. “But that is… quite impressive.”

“My safety aside, I’m a little on the fence about… humoring them. Last time they made me kill a bunch of synths.” The rest of the roundtable glared back in dismay, and she waved her hands wildly. “I mean like Gen 2s. The Institute had taken over a propulsion lab.”

Everyone relaxed, and some gave nervous laughs.

“Rule of thumb, usually when we say ‘synth’ we mean Generation 3,” Carrington said. “Couldn't care less about those 2’s.”

“Fuck off,” Glory hissed.

“Glory…” Desdemona groaned.

“When I say it, I'm often thinking about Nick,” Nora clarified.

“Yeah,” Glory said, whipping back to Carrington. “Her friend is a Gen 2, way to be insensitive.”

Nick lifted his head. “Hey, since I’m the odd guy out, can I ask a question? How come the only synth on the roster is a heavy?”

“I’m not the only synth,” Glory replied.

Deacon lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t the whole point of synths you can’t tell who’s one and who isn’t?”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” Nick said. “Never quite had that luxury myself.”

“Most of our uh, loud and proud agents are more the types to put their bodies on the line for the cause,” Deacon said. “Not to lose faith in humanity, but not every person will take a bullet for someone else’s liberation.”

“Our friend here is a rare exception,” Carrington said.

“Maybe she is a synth,” Glory said, nudging her.

“I’m not,” Nora laughed. “At least… I would know, wouldn’t I?” she said with mystification.

“Who’s to say?” Deacon said cheerfully. “That’s why we should all be a lil nicer to each other out there.”

“Speaking of synths,” Desdemona said, “we should get a plant into the Brotherhood before the Institute does.”

Nick shook his head. “Not to sound like a broken record, but I think her up there alone could be a cause for concern.”

“We’re already sending in a few agents to play the role of starry-eyed militia, but they can only get so much access.”

“Yeah, and not _airship_ access,” Deacon added. “From what we heard, that’s for their Elder and his precious chosen few.”

Glory raised her hand. “I still don’t get why we don’t fire a rocket at it. Would save us soooo much time.”

“Because that’s not how we operate,” Deacon said, then paused. “Also, because RPG’s don’t reach that far.”

Nick sighed. “Glad to find out where your convictions stand,” he grumbled.

“My stance is alongside our synths in need,” Deacon said. “And _boy oh boy_ , do they need us more than ever.”

Desdemona nodded solemnly.

Nora seemed hesitant. “Then you’ll need me here?”

“If that’s not too much trouble,” Carrington answered, their leader pre-occupied with her own thoughts. “You could stay in Goodneighbor, if you like?”

“It’s not the location. I have a bag of dirty clothes that I packed for a much… different occasion.” Deacon cocked his brow, and she narrowed her eyes. “If you want me to guide a synth through the shadows, I can’t be in DayGlo shorts.”

“Aw, but you look great in those shorts, boss,” Deacon said cheekily. Nick fervently agreed, but he was also a professional.

He cleared his throat purposefully. “You know, kiddo, I owe you several favors. I can take some stuff home? Pack you a bag?”

Nora turned to him with relief, once again clasping his lapels. “Would you, sweetie?” she asked. He nodded stiffly, not expecting the endearment. “Nicky, you're such a doll.”

His eyes flitted to the others, wondering if they too were getting these... signals. Though he aped the silver-screen greats, Nick had minimal experience with genuine flirtation. Colleagues joked that the only reason he had Jenny was because she hit him over the head with her intentions. Nora was more... peculiar, her affections ambiguous, and he had encouraged it. He had difficulty deciphering if there was a new meaning in their playful banter. Or if there always was, and he had just been too self loathing to notice.

“You could start a footlocker here,” Deacon said, bringing Nick back to earth.

“I don’t want to impose,” Nora said. Nick hoped she wouldn’t either.

“Nah, I’ll just move my 3,000 shoes,” Deacon offered, and Nora stared. “That was a pre-war joke, just for you.”

“I don’t get it,” she said, 20th century political scandals apparently outside her expertise.

Deacon batted a hand. “Ah, it was before your time.”

She giggled raucously and for the first time in his robotic life, Nick felt himself flinch. That laugh was not his to hoard selfishly in his grasp that bruised skin, just because she made his moody self feel better. She had to be shared with the world, allowed to find her own happiness. Even if it was in the dirt, in danger, with men he found grating and women who unnerved him.

“Nick?” Nora said, and it was like a calming caress. She held up one of her packs. “You can just take this one, and I’ll start building up a cache here. But I’ll need more of my essentials.”

All eyes were definitely on him now. Nora would soon venture out on yet another life-or-death mission, and he wanted to memorize that face and make a confession that conveyed the gravity of his feelings for her, both old and new.

But this catacomb was too stuffy, Nora too pretty in this lantern light, and the last thing he wanted was to stall out from her embrace, or worse; say something that may distract her from this perilous job.

“Sure, I’ll… I’ll be back in a jiff.” He smiled and took her bag. “By the weekend, right?”

“You don’t have to rush,” Nora assured.

But he needed to. If he ran, then maybe he could make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are OFFICIALLY in part 2 of TGF. I didn't think it'd take me this long to get here, but this was originally going to be a 3 chapter fic. I still have to write the next bits from scratch (ugh) and I have a lot on my plate already, but I hope this tides readers over for a while. Thanks to everyone who hasn't lost faith in me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been in bad health and was dealing with immense stress and a death in the family. That sounds like a huge roadblock, I know, but when I started this series 4 years ago that was exactly the point where I was at too. So I worry people think I'm abandoning this for other projects, but it just takes a lot of effort and I'm constantly second guessing and rewriting. It's something I'm trying really hard to get right because this project means a lot to me. 
> 
> Anyway thank you for your patience, and I hope you like this one. (Oh, and please picture Peggy Bundy. If you're wondering what that means, you'll know when you get there.)
> 
> CWs: drinking, sexual references, misogyny, body image issues, dangerous situations

“Nick? Really?” Ellie groaned. Her boss scrambled around their office, hastily collecting supplies. “You’re just running off again, with no warning, when a client needs you?”

“It's a missing necklace, Ellie, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Explain that to the man I had to console — The one who got snot all over my blouse,” she said with disgust and then shook her head. “He was saving it for his _wedding_. I thought you had the heart of a romantic.”

“I do, but _y’know,_ materialism ain’t as high on the list as, say, someone in peril.”

“What happened to ‘no case too small’?” she pestered. Nick sighed. “Besides, we’re scrimping over energy bills this year.”

He shook a bottle of coolant to make sure it was full. “Normally I’d agree, but right now I gotta help out our _favorite_ client.”

Ellie’s guard fell. “Nora? Where _is_ she?”

“She's uh…” He couldn’t mention the Railroad outright. “She's helpin’ a friend.”

“Oh, is this the same ‘friend’ again?” Ellie asked with a smirk. Nick chose to ignore it.

“I bet you and Piper can figure it out, easy,” he deflected.

Ellie jumped. “Wait — Really? I can take a case?”

“Sure,” Nick said, casual. “You're clever and sweet, and Piper's scrappy and obnoxious. Dream team.”

“Nick, don’t you joke about this.” She blocked his path to the bedrooms. “I can really take this?”

He peered at her, bemused. Ellie had her hands clasped under her chin like he’d offered her a blank check. The veteran detective couldn’t spare any more thought or preparation into sending Ellie on a proper case — The clock was ticking, and skipping out on a theft would buy him hours.

“I said I’d give you more responsibilities.”

“ _Nick, you’re the best,”_ she said and kissed his cheek.

“Why do I keep gettin’ assaulted lately,” he mumbled, thumbing lipstick off his face.

Ellie’s chaste affection didn’t make his wires go fuzzy. So why was Nora so different?

\---

“Do you think he’s gonna make it?” Glory asked. Nora glanced up from cleaning her rifle. Glory raised a brow, sitting the wrong way on a swivel chair with her chin resting on the back, like a needling kid-sister.

“Who?” Nora asked, worried she’d missed a bit of news.

“Mr. Valentine. Don’t you live, like, half a day away?”

“Yeah, but I think he can manage.” Nick had been tortured by the heat, acting slow and strange around her, but — “He can walk all night, unlike the rest of us.”

Glory’s head dipped back. “Then he should join us full time! Do you know how quickly we’d get dead drops done with a Gen 2?”

“He’s a machine, but not a _machin_ e, Glory,” Nora said, with a knowing look.

“OK, obviously.” Glory rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to _out-lib_ me. I’m the only one here on your guys’ side.”

Nora finished putting the gun back together. “C’mon, Nick and I have more allies than that, don’t we?”

Deacon leaned into her field of vision. “I hate the word ‘allies’, it’s meaningless. I prefer ‘accessories to the crime’.”

“Get out of here, you sneaky freak,” Glory growled at him. “Whisper and I were having a private conversation.”

“Yeah, _private_ , like we’re not in a cavern,” Deacon replied. “You can hear a mouse fart from the other side of the room.”

Nora stood up and slung the gun over her shoulder. “I’d love to stay and speculate on whether Nick will break down on the road, but I have to prepare for the worst. I might crash at Goodneighbor for the night.”

“Aw, I was hoping you’d crash here,” Glory said.

Deacon shook his head. “She’s soft, Glor. She needs a ‘real bed’, _whatever that means,_ ” he teased and Nora wrinkled her nose back. “As if a pile of leaves isn’t good enough for her.”

“I was going to bring you back a treat from town, but you had to be that way.”

He made a pouty face. “If I walk you to the door, will you forgive me?”

Nora shook her head and picked up her bag. She nearly reached the exit door before hearing his voice again.

“Hey, boss.” Nora spun around and saw Deacon peering around the corner, his cheek against the brick. “You have plans tonight?”

“Not really. I mean, I kind of dropped everything to be at your beck and call.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said with a grin. “How about you meet me at the Third Rail. It’s a Thursday night… _I’m buying.”_

“Yeah?” Nora perked up. She rarely ventured in for pleasure, since Nick vetoed such a rough and tumble establishment.

“Yeah. I’ll see you at twenty-hundred hours… Wear something nice.”

Nora’s shoulders dropped. “Is this a date?”

Deacon’s smile slipped away. _“Ew.”_

She was taken aback. “Wait, you can’t ‘ _ew’_ me!”

“Do you think I’m that unprofessional? Do you know me?” he asked with disgust, as if he could ever be knowable. “ _Ugh,_ I’m taking back the other half of our friendship necklace.”

“No — I just…” She laughed, a bit embarrassed. “I dunno, I’ve been having trouble with signals lately. I keep thinking about… dating again, and it feels disrespectful, but also inevitable, I…”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to throw salt in the wound like that, honest.” Deacon slipped closer, as if afraid his cohorts would witness his humanity. “That was… callous of me. Like, I forget people want that out of life, when I can’t even think about myself before I think about our synths.”

“So I’m selfish,” Nora said.

“Stop twisting my words, pal. It’ll get you in trouble one day,” Deacon said. Nora sighed, annoyed by his know-it-all nature. “C’mon, let's reset. Hi, I’m Deacon, I work for the Railroad —” She snorted — “And I just wanted to…” Deacon’s voice lowered, “thank you, for everything you did at the Den.”

“I’d rather you thank me by bringing back my kid.”

“Listen, I said when this is all over we’re gonna owe you a ton of shit. But this one is from me personally. An express gift.” He shrugged, back his nonchalant nature. “ _Besides,_ I was gonna head over there, anyway. It’s ladies' night, so I’ll need a wingwoman.”

Nora mulled it over with a smile, recalling his quips about sequined dresses. “Ladies' night, huh? Looking for casual action?”

“I don’t need to look,” he said incredulously. “Action finds me. I’m universally irresistible. And wanted by the FBI.”

“Do you even know what FBI means?” Nora chuckled.

“Fancy Boys International,” Deacon said with confidence.

Nora waved him away, eased that she’d at least have more levity before her next mission. “I’ll see you tonight.”

\---

Nick leaned against the inner gate of Sanctuary, trying to catch his breath so to speak. He fanned himself with his hat, and Sturges stared down from the guard tower with concern.

“You alright there, detective?” the handyman asked.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, friend,” Nick panted. “Just an old man feeling his age.”

“Miss Nora’s not _here_ , if that’s who you’re lookin’ for,” Sturges said apologetically.

“I’m all too aware. Just headin’ to her place to pack her a bag,” Nick said, finally regulating his temperature in the shade.

“Well ain’t that sweet,” Sturges said earnestly, but Nick could only hear the romantic accusations in his head. The synth pushed on further up the street and caught Preston’s eye.

“Oh, I’m glad to see you,” Preston said, beaming back.

“Ah,” Nick smiled sheepishly. “I don’t hear that too often, unless there’s danger.” He paused. “There’s not any, is there?”

“No danger, don’t worry.” Preston looked around. “Um. Where’s the General?”

“She ain’t with me.”

Preston’s eyes widened. “Is she OK? Do you need —”

“Nothing like that — I’m just on a solo mission.”

The other man nodded slowly, as if Nick had spoken Italian. “Then where _is_ she?”

“Helpin’ out a friend, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” Preston still seemed confused, and Nick gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“I got an errand, and the heat is fryin’ my core, so sorry for my brevity,” he attempted to walk away.

“You two are OK though?” Preston asked. Now it was Nick’s turn to be incredulous.

“Yeah, I’m picking up a bag for… What do you mean ‘OK’, did something —” He stopped himself again. “ _Look_ , I dunno what you’ve heard, but she and I are partners in the detective's sense.”

Preston held up a hand. “Hey, I get it — Just checking in on friends. Uh, when you see her, let her know the Castle has some new surveillance on that airship. Last I heard, she was kinda pissed off at them.”

Nick exhaled with a nod. “And I thought it’d be a lazy summer this year,” he grumbled under his breath.

Yet again someone demanded his attention with a sharp whistle. Nick turned to see Cait, MacCready, and an unknown ghoul, sitting in lawn chairs across the way. Cait beckoned him over and Nick begrudgingly obliged.

“Where’s your girl? Grab’er for me,” Cait asked.

“ _She’s not here_ , it’s just me,” Nick said, annoyed by being treated like a messenger boy.

“Aw boo,” Cait said. “Mac here’s got some news.”

“My kid’s doing better!” he said, and Nick blinked, reminded again that the merc was a father. “No longer contagious. Next he’ll be relearning how to walk.”

“We’re celebrating,” Cait said, holding up her beer. “And I hate kids!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna lose my best friend. Nora will have to take her place,” MacCready said and winked. “Let her know that I wanna talk. ‘Bout some parent-to-parent stuff.”

“Sure, if I see her first.”

“If?” Cait balked. “You two are bloody inseparable.”

“Well, as you can see, we’re separate at the moment.” Nick shook his head. “You _do_ know I have a life outside her, right?”

“So... why are you here, then?” MacCready asked.

Nick opened his mouth but realized he could say nothing in defense. He rolled his jaw and began walking away as they laughed.

After one final effort through the heat, Nick made it to her front door and rushed inside before someone else could interrogate him.

But he was not alone.

“Oh! You two are back,” Codsworth chirped, apparently also taking refuge in the shade.

Nick sighed. “Just me today, Cods… Just me.”

“Well, welcome home, sir,” Codsworth said and took Nick’s coat from his arms. “Or your home-away-from-home, I should say. Though perhaps we shouldn’t impose on mum.”

“You think she’d kick me out?” Nick asked, flopping down on her couch.

“Nonsense, you’re part of the family.”

Nick looked up at the other bot and smiled. “Family, huh?” The past few days had been an exercise in feeling worthy of one. “Well, it’s an honor to be included.”

He undid his tie and settled into the cushions. The cave-like atmosphere of the drawn curtains and well-engineered cross breeze made him feel more relaxed. But something had shifted in him since the last time he took a breather in Nora’s living room. This house was feeling more like a home, and Nora more like someone he’d want to build one with.

“How far would you go for the lady of the house?” Nick asked, avoiding Codsworth’s tri-cloptic eyeline, fearing another mechanical being would read him better than a human.

“Why, to the ends of the earth, sir. Unlike you and the moppets you’ve adopted, she is all the family I have.”

“You got Sanctuary, Cods. The folks here love you.”

“Maybe so, but it’s different with her. She somehow thinks I’m human.” Nick could relate. “Mr. Valentine, I know this is... _overstepping,_ but may I ask for a favor?”

“I’m full up at the moment, but I suppose I could spare one. Robot-to-robot.”

“Ah, and exactly my point. Could you… talk some sense into Curie?”

Nick squinted at him. “She’s still on that ‘becoming human’ kick, eh?”

“Can they even _do_ such a thing?” Codsworth asked.

“Not to my knowledge.” If the possibility existed, he’d find it too tempting, if only to taste chocolate again. “You go ‘n let her know it’s a fairytale, alright?”

“I would, but she sees you as a proof of concept.”

“Unless she wants to have a medical consultation with the Institute, it’s flat out impossible.” Codsworth made a satisfied noise. “Would _you_ ever want to be human?”

“Heavens, no,” Codsworth said. “Mum has asked many times before.”

He raised his brows. “Has she now?”

“No disrespect towards her or humankind, of course. It's just if I had to rest, then nothing would ever get done. I'm sure you can relate.”

“ _Heh._ Well, being mechanical has its perks.” He felt his temperature rising, thinking about whether Nora would be interested in a third version of Nick Valentine. “Except for today.”

\---

Nora had never expected Deacon to make good on the drink offer. He was full of wildly inconsistent babblings that even he couldn’t seem to keep straight. Though she’d laughed at the concept of a ‘Ladies' Night’, the furrow of his brow told her maybe, just maybe, this was an earnest invitation. And she'd hoped it wasn't a test of her gullibility.

There was no one in the Third Rail who resembled him in any form. The only unknown figure at the bar was a ginger-haired woman wearing oval sunglasses… with a sparkling emerald wiggle dress.

_No. It couldn’t be._

“Hey, boss,” she said as Nora sat down. Or. He. Deacon. Or whoever he or she or _they_ were tonight. “‘Bout time.”

“Sorry I— I didn’t recognize you.”

“Uh, _duh_ , ‘cause I’m good at my job. I changed up the shades a lil — my usuals harsh my brow-line a lot.”

“I mean, when you said the sequin dress thing, I thought you were doing a bit.”

Deacon seemed taken aback. “Would I lie to you?”

Nora snorted. “I used to think I could read people. You really do keep me on my toes.”

“What are you drinking tonight?”

“Whiskey.”

Deacon gestured to the bot floating past. “Charlie, another round for me and a whiskey for my friend. Nothing bank breaking, please.”

“Ah.” Despite not having a face, Nora could feel Charlie’s disapproving glare. “You’re chummy with this trouble maker then, miss?”

“Who? Me?” Deacon asked. “Her? Yeah, she’s a disaster.”

Charlie picked up a bottle. “I’ll let you two natter in peace tonight, but don’t give me a reason to report back to the mayor.”

“One day you’ll appreciate all I do in this world, pal,” Deacon said. “Like escorting your drunks off the premises before they piss off _more_ of your female clientele.”

“ _Bah._ ”

Deacon smiled with self satisfaction. Nora continued to gaze back in puzzlement at her coworker. It wasn’t a natural look, but it wasn’t unattractive either, in fact reminding her of a glamorous redhead she’d seen in an old sitcom. If it weren’t for the unmistakable grin, she’d be hard-pressed to pick this master of disguise out of a line-up.

“Cap for your thoughts?” Deacon asked.

“You look... really pretty tonight.”

“Well, thank you,” Deacon put a hand under their jaw. “Admittedly, I usually don't work femme with faces so masc — This is one of the strongest jaws I've ever had, which, I know doesn't seem like much, but I had the weakest chin back before my plastic surgery days.”

“Can you recommend me a name?”

“What?” Deacon balked. “Dude, you're perfect.”

“I just mean, I’ve always thought my nose is kinda —”

“Classical? Like a marble goddess in a museum? Yeah, I agree.”

Deacon was never the type to butter her up, so the compliment hit her cheeks.

Charlie returned. “Here.” He placed a glass in front of Nora. “An extra shot for you, miss, if you keep this bird in line.”

“Ooh, we’re resorting to bribery now?” Deacon asked.

“You’re one to talk,” Charlie snipped as he set down Deacon’s drink.

“Wow, wine?” Nora asked as Deacon swirled the glass. “That's classy.”

“And whiskey?” Deacon jabbed, pointing at hers. “What are you, someone’s grandpa?”

“Guess we're both full of surprises,” Nora joked, and they clinked glasses.

A strange man approached them. “Hey, you new in town?” he asked Deacon, completely ignoring the other woman.

“Just passing through,” Deacon replied in a voice Nora didn’t recognize. “Bar hopping.”

“Got plans for later?”

“Actually, yeah, with my boyfriend in town.”

The patron grunted in displeasure and waddled off.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Nora asked.

“Unless you wanted to be my girlfriend in this situation,” Deacon said in his usual tone.

“I don't want people to think I'm off the market,” Nora sighed. “He reeked of booze but still totally passed me up.”

“Gentlemen prefer Ginger.” Deacon paused. “So you'd date someone from Goodneighbor?”

“Well…” There were lots of interesting people. Ones she even befriended.

“I never pegged you as a dirty girl, but alright.”

Nora smirked in disbelief. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Don't be gross,” Deacon parried. “Like I said, my life is my career.”

“That's what everyone seems to say out here,” she lamented.

“Oh?” Deacon leaned in. “Who else has shut you down?”

“I'm not looking,” Nora said bluntly and sipped her drink.

“And yet you need to seem available...” Deacon laughed. “C’mon, pal, I’m a lie detector.”

Nora flipped her fringe. “I dunno, what if someone cute stumbles in? I'm not gonna have time to date _with a kid_.”

“Again, Goodneighbor is not filled with dad material, unless you're looking for _daddy_ material.”

Nora furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

Deacon grinned winder. “Oh my God, you're precious.”

“Like sugar daddy? Everyone seems broke,” Nora said skeptically.

“Please keep talking.”

She turned away. “No, now you're making fun of me for missing 200 years of lingo.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Then you're flirting with me.”

“I told you, relationships are not an option for me. I don't want a ‘hit it and quit it’, _so stop asking.”_

She narrowed her eyes. “As if.”

“Would you consider Nick a daddy?” Deacon continued, loving to pester.

“He buys me clothes and things, but he's not a sugar daddy,” Nora brushed off.

“ _He buys you clothes?_ I need to get me one like that, I need some new wigs—”

“We're not like that,” she said more firmly.

Deacon shrugged. “Good, then I'll take him.”

She finally laughed. “I don't think he'd be into that.”

“Why, is he a prude or just doesn't like men?” Deacon glanced down at the sequins. “Or ginger women?”

“I've never actually asked him.”

“Ew, do you just assume sexuality?” Deacon sneered. “And here I thought you two were best friends or something.”

“First of all, _please_ never use Nick and sexuality in the same sentence.”

“Why, did I send your brain into the gutter?” Deacon smirked back.

“Because he's a prude for sure.” She shrugged a shoulder. “But in a cute way, not a judgey way.”

Deacon waggled a finger. “If you two are a secret item, you legally have to tell me.”

“Why?” she snipped.

“I need to know what might compromise our little 'errands'.”

Nora shook her head. “So this drink was just a plot to farm personal info.”

“Hey, you’re the fool who trusted me.”

“Then I should be worried you laced this drink?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh c’mon, I’m not like that,” Deacon said indignantly. “I mean, I _have_ poisoned like a ton of people, but I left my kit at home.”

“You’re something else,” Nora sighed.

Yet another stranger approached the pair, seeming more drunk than the other. His face was scarred, like he’d been in too many bar fights over the years. On others like Nick, it was attractive, but this man lacked a drop of warmth.

“Hey there, Red, long time no see,” he said, almost accusatory.

“Hey yourself,” Deacon replied in yet another voice. Southern this time.

“You interested in another knock-about?”

“No, I'm with my friend, sorry. Maybe next time I’m in town.”

“Your loss then,” he retorted, dead eyed.

“Like I don’t know it, tiger.”

The man remained looking them over for a moment, as if questioning to try again, before leaving the bar entirely. Nora gaped back at Deacon.

“Did you hook-up with that guy?” she whispered.

“He thinks we did.” Deacon sipped from the wineglass. “Let's say I had good reason to wanna have a little pillow talk with that moldy potato. I got him hammered, then as soon as he stirred I was like, ‘Wow, that was great, gotta split,’” he said in that voice again.

“You’ve mentioned seduction. Does it ever…” She raised her brows in punctuation.

Deacon's rose as well. “Oh shit, are we getting into the serious dirty talk now?”

“It’s just a question, since you were prying into my business.”

“I’ll let you in on a professional secret: Being a honeypot is easier than you think. Drunk guys will give you their safe combo if they think it’ll get your panties off. And if you have an iron stomach, you can keep ‘em on.”

“I’m not going to have to do that, am I?” she asked nervously.

Deacon looked her over. “Hmm. Depends. How’s your arsenic tolerance?”

“Excuse me?”

“Then don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m the one getting the free drinks tonight, not you.”

“You know it doesn't feel amazing.”

“What am I, chopped bloatfly?”

“It's not you. After having a baby, your self-esteem kinda goes in the toilet.”

“Well, I think you're way too hard on yourself. People would die to have a bod like that — myself included. I mean, I could have one, but I'm over cosmetic surgery below the neck.”

“What did you have done?”

“Uh, you don’t have clearance for that. And anyway, if people know who you are, they're probably too intimidated to try anything. I'm just a nobody. No one respects me.”

“I respect you,” Nora said gently. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

Deacon took a long sip of wine. “My ass is 100% real though. You can't mess with perfection.”

\---

It wasn’t until sunset that Nick hit the road once more. Codsworth helped him pack Nora’s clothes, but something about the heat today had slowed him to molasses. It’d be better to walk all night, which he hadn’t done since taking up with a human. A life before Nora, which seemed like eons ago. His pace quickened as the temperature fell, his mind determined to make good time. Just any excuse to see her again.

The synth tried to grapple with these feelings, new but also nostalgic. Maybe this _was_ a crush. He could admit that. For months now he’d wondered why everyone didn't fall for her heroic charms, not realizing he already had.

On second thought, who _didn’t_ pine for a knight in shining armor? Especially one who smiled at him like that. One who touched him like he was something soft. And friendship like this was hard to navigate. Never had he been this close to someone in a platonic sense, let alone a woman who was as pretty as the night sky. He was no stranger to gazing at the stars, longing for a place that he could never reach.

Wires getting crossed. Something like that. Nick lit another cigarette, hoping it’d ground him. Now with a clearer head he tried to write a script, so as he wouldn't become stupid and tongue-tied in front of his friend who was learning to read him like a book. He had to be suave, casual, to hide his anxiety over her mission… but not _too_ suave.

“Here, kid,” he rehearsed, “uh… somethin’-somethin’... clothes off your back. I want you home by — _no, too demanding…_ Better come home in one piece — _ugh, too dire.”_

Nick needed to be his normal self. Separate the robot from the hopeless romantic human, though that was exactly what Nora told him not to do. But it would be better, for her sake.

Something caught his eye on the horizon, returning him to the harsh reality of life in the wastes. _Light,_ but not from the sun that had set hours before. Squinting into it, he deciphered it as a lantern's glow, from the middle of the road, but hovering as if someone had stopped. Nick stopped too, apprehensive about what may lie in wait: maybe the Brotherhood, an ornery scavver, or even a raider trap.

He moved towards the brush to find a detour, but as brambles rustled someone called out from the street.

“Who's there?” it asked. “I got a gun and balls of steel. Don’t you think about commandeering from me.”

The detective recognized the voice. Definitely an ornery scavver, but one he knew since way back when she provided other road services. Trashcan Carla.

“Unless you’re scalpin’ laced cigarettes again, I wouldn’t dare cross ya,” Nick replied.

“Valentine, you get your fucked up ass over here,” she demanded, though he could hear relief in her voice.

“What’s the trouble? You get greedy on the load and break another steer?” Nick found her resting against a rock, holding her rifle in hand. “ _Goodness,_ are ya hurt?”

“I twisted my damn ankle in that pothole,” she moaned, gesturing to it. “It’s a _new_ pothole, if you can believe it.”

Nick knelt down at her feet. “Lotta power armor moving through these days.”

“Can you believe I tried to sell to those militarized weirdos? Kids were nice enough, but the big wig demanded I pay a tax or some feudal shit.” Carla lifted her chin. “I said no. She called me a tramp. Said I might spread a disease.”

“You might have some deer ticks, but who doesn’t these days,” Nick said, making sure her ankle wasn’t too gruesome. “Let he that is free of fleas cast the first stone.”

She chuckled softly. “Glad you came across me. Thought I was good as done, with the wildlife hunting at night.”

He gingerly set her foot down. “I ain’t a doctor, but you should find one who is.”

“There’s a doctor in the co-op. Could you take me there?”

“Sunshine Tidings?” Nick cringed.

“Don’t piss yourself, they’re robot friendly,” she said, a cigarette between her teeth.

He studied the position of the moon. “That’s a ways away, is all.”

“I’ll pay you in smokes. Hell, you can even finish this one.”

“It… I’m on a time crunch…” he said, but Carla’s bleary eyes plead with desperation.

What kind of sicko left an injured acquaintance on the side of the road just to see a crush? Especially one he had no intention of confessing to.

Nick sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll getcha there.”

“And they call you a dick. You’re an angel,” Carla joked. But he felt the least angelic he had in years.

\---

After drinks, and laughter, and maybe even a mutually _fun time_ , Deacon had made good on another offer; to put her up in the Hotel Rexford. Nora settled into her solitary room, taking off her nice blouse and slacks, and pulling on her Vault-suit for the night. After a previous night of sweating through her pajamas, she’d come to realize the garment itself was the best temperature regulator one could find.

The door behind her creaked open, and she saw a shadow from the hall cast upon the peeling wall.

“Jeez, D,” Nora hissed as she hastily zipped up her suit. “You can knock, you k—”

It was not the face she expected. And not a disguise, but an entirely different man she recognized from earlier.

Deacon’s previous ‘hook-up’ stood there, eyes darting around the room, for what she didn’t know. But her gun was up against the opposite corner, and no other object in grasp without moving or taking her gaze off the intruder.

Nora froze like a prey animal, unlike the wasteland warrior they purported her to be — her mind tipsy with booze, unsure what to say. But still the man did not move.

A pair of arms wrapped around his torso and neck, putting him into a sort of wrestler's lock.

“You think it’s fun to walk in on ladies, huh?” a deep voice interrogated. Due to the bright light cast behind them, Nora couldn't make out any of the new stranger's features.

The intruder finally spoke. “I wasn’t—”

“Did you bother to knock?” The grip tightened. “Huh?”

His bloodshot eyes fixed on Nora like he expected help. “I didn’t—”

“Nasty creep,” the voice growled. “I better not see your face around here again, hear me?”

“Who are you?” he asked, and Nora wondered the same.

“I’m the Silver Shroud.”

The color drained from the man’s face, unawares that Nora had been responsible for those settled scores. _“Jesus,”_ he croaked. “Don’t hurt me.”

The ‘Shroud’ turned the man around and pushed him out the door; locking it before the man could get a look.

Deacon stared over his shoulder at her, bald as could be and back in his regular shades.

“You good, boss?” he asked.

Nora dropped onto the bed and felt like she might vomit from relief. _“Deacon.”_

“Why are you holing up with unlocked doors?” Deacon hissed.

“It... slipped my mind,” she admitted. Usually on nights like this a synth tucked her in.

He frowned. “An agent can’t let these things _slip their mind_ , capisce?” Nora buried her face in her hands and tried to steady her pulse. The floor squeaked as Deacon took a step forward. “Hey, that really shook you up, huh? Sorry.”

“I couldn’t even think,” Nora breathed. She’d learned to act swiftly in battles, but being surprised in such a vulnerable state was more than she could handle.

“Did he do anything? Say anything?”

“No, I… He was just looking around like…” Nora looked up. “Like he was expecting to be somewhere else.”

Deacon knelt down to meet her gaze. “Do you need me to stay with you tonight?” he asked, not patronizing or judgmental like she’d expect after his curt scolding. The agent peered over the frames and his eyes were shockingly blue, lined with age, and full of concern.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, disarmed yet again by a glimpse of something she was not meant to see. “Otherwise I… I might fire off a pistol at every noise.”

“It does get noisy here. You might get us kicked out if someone’s coitus gets interruptus by a bullet wound.” The sentiment made her laugh, and her shoulders relaxed. Deacon stood up and crossed his arms. “Honestly, if I didn’t know he sends money home to his wife and three kids, I’d probably have snuffed out his candle.”

“Couldn’t shoot an ex-boyfriend, huh?” Nora asked, hoping the teasing would dispel her remaining nerves.

“Oh I’ve shot many,” Deacon said, and dropped into an armchair. “Maybe I was lazy today. Usually I do this shit alone — I’m out of the dress and into a disguise before anyone realizes I’m gone.” He turned to her. “But people would recognize you. I realize my universally irresistible wiles backfired on me again.”

Nora let out a soft laugh. “You think he was here for you?”

“He _definitely_ was here for me.” Deacon sighed. “I just hope it was for a score — and not to _settle_ a score, if you catch my drift.” He rolled his neck. “Fucking hubris, man. I was looking forward to a bed tonight, but give me your pillow and we’ll be square.”

“You don’t have to stay just because I screwed up,” Nora said.

“Of course I do,” he said sharply, but then shrugged. “Besides keeping our best key to _you-know-who_ safe… Girls’ night is _sacred_. I got you.”

She suddenly realized how dangerous even the civilized world was, after growing bold by the promise of a gun on her hip… and usually a sleepless synth by her side. Deacon could walk around like sex on legs, without a care, because at the end of the day the agent was a tactical master.

“Deacon,” she said, and peered at him like a child in trouble. “Please don't tell Nick. He’d never let me out of his sight again.”

He let out a puff of air. “Pal, who the fuck do you think you're talking to?” he asked and smiled. “I always lie to cops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a concept for a stand alone fic, but I felt like it really fit the circumstances Nora was now in and reworked it to blend with the plot. (Genderfluid / nonbinary Deacon is a fave headcanon of mine, because well that's me lol) Like I said before, I started this in October of 2016 after a huge loss, and this has been a really cathartic thing for me to write, and even more so during the following rapid decline of like everything. Sometimes you get back on your feet after something huge only to have them swept out from under you again. But we keep persisting!
> 
> I might not have a new chapter until 2021 because NaNo is kicking my ass, and I have end of the year stuff to finish, but I'm still here, and I'm glad you're still here, as a reader and as a human in this world. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roses are red, violets are blue, I have another belated update for you!
> 
> I know you all say not to apologize for being late, so I won't, but I do apologize if I left any errors in here because I've been in a never ending brain fog all 2021. I really wanted to make this deadline, so I hope you like it.
> 
> CWs: mentions of sex, self-loathing, amatonormativity

The road to Sunshine Tidings proved to be a slow and cumbersome journey. Any walk would be with an injured traveler past her prime, but Carla had packed her stubborn Brahmin to the heavens with valuable inventory, which couldn’t be left behind. The longer they limped along, the more frustrated Nick became — not at the merchant, but at himself. Saving a life and lending a hand had been the one thing that brought him joy and purpose in this bleak world. Now he felt resentful towards the universe for throwing a wrench in his plans, like it had punished him for daring to have eyes for a human.

Somehow dawn had only just broken when they reached the co-op. Carla let out a whoop of triumph, and Nick a sigh of relief. Guards quickly descended upon them. As they hauled her off, she gave a near delirious wave to her moping savior. 

Nick camped on the outskirts, waiting for word of his associate’s fate, but his wires sizzled as he watched the surrounding shadows change in length. This semi-immortality he’d been burdened with made him untethered in time, yet today he felt handcuffed to the ticking clock, trapped by its cruelty.

Finally, the infirmary’s medic hailed him from its barn doors. “It’s good you got her in so soon,” she said. “I’ve seen better go gangrenous. It’s like someone sent you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Nick said, but his meaning was lost on them. Doctor and patient beamed and thanked him with gracious hands. Again Nick found no consolation in it, like a fraud.

With Nora’s bag secured over his shoulder, he trotted double-time down the hill, cutting through the more trying terrain, no ankles to snap that he couldn’t easily put back together. Ordinarily he’d stop by Diamond City before his trip to the Old Church, but time was of the essence. Guilt struck him again when he remembered he’d sent his secretary off on her first solo case. Ellie would wake soon, likely expecting him back by late morning, champing at the bit to tell him all about it. 

Nick reached a crossroads — metaphorically and quite literally. One road lead to the stadium, the other a fast track to the North End’s bridge. Karmically it was obvious; a selfless act or one more selfish than ever. The temperature rose with the sun, and Nick recognized he’d get nowhere in the full wrath of mid-day. The wisest choice would be to wait out the heat in the office, celebrate with his new junior detective — but that left Nora without a bag, without a stealthy outfit, and toothpaste, and presumably underthings packed by Codsworth. 

The choice was tough, but it was clear. Nick fixated on what he hoped waited on the other side of his quest, projecting it in his mind’s eye for motivation. And with every step, Nora’s smiling face became more lovely, eyes more adoring, and her mouth the only one he could accept gratitude from.

\---

Despite the agent’s snores, Nora had slept late into the morning. The shock of her midnight visitor had apparently knocked them _both_ out cold. Most days Deacon would’ve shaken her awake at the crack of dawn, but their next mission required action in the small hours where the ruined city laid more abandoned than before. 

She inhaled her complementary breakfast as if late for work, without small talk or dawdling. Deacon seemed quietly impressed with her new focus. Truth be told, she just wanted to escape this seedy town as soon as humanly possible. But if he insisted on being so elusive with his reasons, then Nora could have her little white lies too.

“Nick should be back soon, don’t you think?” she asked him after they checked out from the hotel.

Deacon secured a baseball cap over his bald head. “I dunno about that. You guys have a habit of being chronically late,” he replied. “Unless that’s just a ‘ _you’_ problem.”

Nora glared back and pushed up her glasses. “It’s unfair to compare me to someone mechanical. And it’s not _that_ far. Not if he crosses by Bunker Hill.”

“Well, hope for the best, plan for the worst, right?” He gestured towards the shops. “Better buy a second pair of whatever you can’t live without.”

That would be a fresh tank-top, toothpaste, and spare underpants. Deacon better not hover for that last one.

Daisy’s Discounts had everything a girl could need, though most of it laid buried in Goodneighbor’s collective market storeroom. Nora perused the inventory ledger, finding several unexpected things she now couldn’t live without. A new dry shampoo, more bubblegum — and she might as well buy a balaclava for night missions, now that she sensed _someone-or-other_ snooping over her shoulder.

She blocked his view and ignored him. 

“Just can’t get enough of me, can you Sunshine?” a voice rasped close to her.

Nora nearly jumped out of her skin and reached for her gun — but the ghoulish face that met her was a welcome sight. “Hancock,” she wheezed, “you scared me.”

“I’m not _that_ ugly, am I?” the mayor asked.

Her anger subsided, but only marginally. Deacon told her not to be complacent within walls, but unfortunately she’d grown accustomed to allies with poor senses of humor. “If you want a better reception, don’t hiss in the ears of women with concealed pistols,” Nora said, snapping it back into its holster.

Hancock grasped his chest as if she’d fired. “I always knew I’d go in a crime of passion,” he joked. “That said, you’re a far stride away from home, without that pesky keeper of yours.”

“How do you know I’m alone?” she parried, eyes hunting for wherever Deacon disappeared to.

“A leader can’t sleep through strange times,” Hancock said casually. “Got my ears to the streets, and I would’ve heard if your favorite dick was in town.”

Nora wrinkled her nose at the phrasing. “Actually, I’m not alone.” She spotted the agent nestled in the nearest corner. “I brought a friend to run errands.”

Deacon folded down a newspaper and gave a cordial nod of his head. _“Bonjourno.”_

“Ugh, I know you,” Hancock graveled, surprising Nora with his undisguised contempt. “You’re one of those freaks she’s helping.”

“Wow, that’s hurtful,” Deacon said. “I’ll have you know I’m the freakiest one.”

Nora’s shoulders drooped with a groan. “I can’t introduce anyone to _anyone_ in this wasteland without them having beef.” She turned to Deacon. “Is there anyone besides me who likes you?”

“Buddy, you saw what happens when I’m likable.” He smiled at Hancock. “Groupies, am I right?”

“Used to be about that life, but I think I’ve grown a little soft in my old age,” he said, squeezing Nora’s cheek. “Don’t tell any of my constituents, though.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m kind of tired of mingling with Goodneighbor types.”

_“Yeowch,”_ Hancock said. “Bad service? You need me to comp your room, or maybe put out a hit?” The ghoul leaned in again, his petite frame nearly nose-to-non-existent-nose with her. “You know, you’re always welcome to my private quarters.”

Nora smirked, feeling the self-esteem she’d been missing at the bar. “I’ve got work to do,” she said and folded up her paper order.

“You’re a dedicated girl,” Hancock said, more earnestly this time. “Any man would be lucky.”

She handed the slip to Daisy, who seemed sullen about missing any more gossip. “I’m not looking for favor,” Nora said back to him. “I’m looking for a safer world to raise my kid.”

“Right, right, domestic bullshit. Not for the faint of heart.” He looked Deacon up and down. “But you could do better than _this guy_.”

“Strictly platonic,” Deacon said before she could argue. “I’m her life coach.”

“Nothing good from you she couldn’t learn better from me,” Hancock said.

“Maybe so,” Deacon said breezily. “But I did just get my babysitters license, so I’m thinking I’ll change my career path _._ ”

Hancock smiled at Nora. “Ah, he can play nanny while we have fun on the town. Goodneighbor is no place for a kid.” He glanced around. “Then again, if you wanna move in, I can see about rewritin’ some laws, cleanin’ up the place.”

Nora gave him a skeptical look. “I thought you were taking a break from politics.”

“Yeah,” Deacon said, “You did a lil speech and everything.” Nora sighed, wondering just how many of her memories had the spy lurking in plain sight.

“Eh, Sanctuary is nice joint, but the vibe is kinda too wholesome for me,” Hancock shuddered, like he’d seen a cockroach. “And why would I stay if you’re spendin’ all your time within Boston city limits?”

“Sorry for not saying ‘Hi’ to a friend,” Nora said and pensively pushed back her hair. “Maybe I should’ve since I’ll be hard to pin down for a bit.”

“ _Mmn.”_ Hancock crossed his arms. “Nick know about this?”

“About work or errands?” she asked. Hancock’s black eyes bore into her. “The former, yes, the latter, well… He doesn’t _own_ me.”

“Guy is so hung-up on the fragility of life, y’know?” Hancock said. “Just seems strange he’d be OK with you goin’ all vigilante on us.”

“You wanna talk safety?” Nora asked. “If I died out there, _this guy_ would drag me back from Hell just to tell me what a bad student I was.”

“Aw, boss, you say the sweetest things,” Deacon said.

Hancock’s gaze remained expectant, and Nora shook her head. “I don’t need another grizzled old wastelander to tell me not to be stupid.”

“Then how about a friend tellin’ you to come back safe?” He kissed her cheek and then turned to Deacon with intimidating posture. “And as for you…”

Deacon waved him away. “No kiss, I’m good.”

The ghoul let out a bewildered laugh. “Eh, I see why you two get along,” Hancock muttered. “Tell Nick I don’t approve of all this.” 

“Tell the shopkeepers to put my expenses on your tab,” she countered.

“Whatever keeps you on the line, little fish.” He then strolled off to continue his rounds.

“So am I just supposed to ignore that?” asked another raspy voice behind her. Daisy, waiting with a bag.

Nora bashfully accepted the order. “Sorry about that. You know how men are.”

“I definitely do, which I why I want nothin’ more to do with them,” Daisy said and started ringing her up. 

Deacon peeked over again. “Put that one on _my_ tab, Daze.” 

That explained the lantern in the upstairs window.

“You slobbering hounds need to leave this hen alone,” Daisy said, but obliged. “She’s a mother, for Pete’s sake.”

Yet another one of Nora’s friendships misread by the outside world. Self-consciousness overtook her. Did she seem like the type who fooled around with ghouls, and synths, and anonymous drifters wearing sunglasses? She remembered Ellie mistaking Danse for a gentleman caller and groaned out loud.

“What’s the matter, pal, you leave the stove on?” Deacon asked.

“Nothing,” Nora mumbled and swung her pack back over her shoulder.

Deacon followed her out of the shop and to the gates. Apparently the silence went a bit too prolonged for the agent. “Nothing, huh?”

“Actually,” she ruminated, “I do have a question, now that I think about it.”

“Like, a rhetorical one? ‘Cause that’s my fave to answer.”

Nora stopped and looked at him with accusatory eyes. “Why aren’t you on my ass about Hancock? Is he an exception to the ‘don’t get distracted by romance’ rule?”

“He’s different. He’s a mayor.” Deacon shrugged. “No shame in gold digging for political power.” Nora stared back unamused. “Did I ever tell you about _my_ brief stint as the Prince of Iceland? So first of all, _elves are real…”_ She turned away and continued walking down the ruined street. 

\---

“ _Shit, shit, shit,”_ Nick hissed and patted the other pack for his last reserve of coolant. “Goddamn you, if you left it at her place, I’m gonna —” He stopped his flogging short and pulled the bottle out with a moan of relief. “Oh thank God.”

The more synthetic voice of reason continued scolding him. Reckless acts. Half-assed plans. Lost in the fog of summer heat and whatever the hell fantasy he was letting consume him. Without that coolant, he’d break down before he could find shelter. What would Nora think of him then?

He had fixated on clients before, but not for his own sake. After going through such trauma himself, Nick strived to be a light in their tragedy and do all he could to bandage wounds. Sometimes that was the closest he could get to making things right. The detective wanted all the same for Nora, but he got a deeper repletion from seeing her happy. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to be by her side when she laughed, hummed, waltzed around her kitchen baking earthly delights like there was nothing wrong in her thoroughly fractured universe.

Like Nick, Nora was prone to escapism — But where he tried to treat existence like a pulp novel, she danced through life like it was a dream.

Maybe if he took her hand, she’d pull him into that beautiful dreamland with her. One where they could be happy together. If only there was a world where they _could_ be together.

He shook the thought from his mind like a rock stuck in his gears.

These bonds happened, in the police force, in the military. But Nick was as much of a cop as Nora was a soldier. Him a nurturer and her a pacifist. 

Coolant tank half full, he resumed his mission with an athlete’s resolve. This was the final stretch. Just one bridge to go and it’d all be smooth from there in the city’s shade. He’d meet her in that sunless catacomb and relax by her side, listen to her gossip while he sorted himself out with a clearer mind.

Nora being out of his sight made him as edgy as a guard dog away from his master. He needed to have more compassion for the poor German Shepherd waiting back at Sanctuary.

Footsteps clacked from around the bend, casting a hulking shadow. Nick reached for his pistol with alarm, but exhaled just as quick. The figure revealed itself to be another vendor on the road. Well, that was _some_ decent fortune in the face of none. Roaming types like that weren’t afraid of Nick, either from passing the bot along so many highways, or because making a sale came before prejudice.

“You lookin’ to cross at Bunker Hill?” the vendor asked.

Nick looked up in surprise. “Er… Yeah.” In the swelter, he couldn’t recall the man’s name.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “The army brats are chargin’ up the nose for toll.”

“Army brats?” Nick prudently checked the ammo in his six-shooter. “That a new Raider gang I ain’t heard of yet?”

“Might as well be. It’s those guys that came down from the sky,” he said. Nick paused in horror. “Hoped they might keep the peace ‘round here, but now I see they’re tryin’ to obstruct our way of life.”

“You mean I hoofed it all the…” He trailed off. This couldn’t be happening. Even if he had toll money, those synth-haters would never let him pass. _“In this heat?”_

“ _Man,_ I said the same damn thing.”

“But I… I got somewhere to be,” Nick rasped, as if bargaining with the universe.

“Dunno what you want _me_ to do about it.” The vendor dug into a large bag. “But, since you’re here… I got Grey Tortoise to unload.” He waggled a cigarette carton out to Nick.

“Nah,” Nick waved it away, head still spinning. “I’m trying to cut back.”

“Oh, you a health nut now?” He shoved it back in his bag like Nick had offended him. “Guess I can’t blame ya. I hear they’re bad for your skin.” The vendor snickered and shuffled away, and Nick hadn’t the mind to analyze whether he’d been insulted.

This turn of events blended his already topsy-turvy thoughts to a complete mush that he half-expected was leaking out his ears. This was unacceptable. He had to cross. It was in the plan.

“So there’s…” Nick started, and the vendor looked back with befuddlement. “No chance?”

The man stopped in his tracks and examined the synth, as if stunned by a machine becoming frazzled. “You… uh… malfunctioning or somethin’?”

Nick exhaled, grounding himself. “You know what? I’m starting to suppose I am.”

The vendor nodded slowly and then gestured to the tree line. “I’d say get out of the sun, detective, it’s no good for _anything_ on a day like this.”

Right when you thought someone was on your side, they call you a thing. But maybe Nick needed that reminder.

By now the sun neared its peak and Nick’s anxiety spiked along with the climate. 

On a cool fall day he could sprint to the other bridge in an hour, tops. Old world joggers did it every day. Two hours at a more leisurely pace. But today, three would be impossible, four unreasonable. Sunset wouldn’t wrap back around until 7 and even then…

“What are you doing, Nick?” he whispered. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

He wasn’t sure if he meant the physical stress or the crush.

Nick drug himself off the road, up a small incline to a patch of shady trees. Knees creaking, he lowered himself down before falling with a thud. After a few huffs for effort, he managed to roll onto his back. 

“Alright. New plan,” he muttered, staring at the sky through the canopy. “We cool down and _make_ a plan.”

If Nora could see him now, what would she say? _Stubborn old man._ _Reckless hypocrite._ And she’d say it like that was what he truly was. A fallible mortal, rather than a prototype. Her dark eyes would burn with fierce guardian instincts as she tried to protect him from everything and everyone. Including his rusted old self.

And if he did break down, how would he explain it to her? Rationalized motives for pushing himself to his limits… for an unneeded _overnight bag?_ The kid was smart — she probably figured he got tied up already and went shopping on her own. Good sweet Nora wouldn’t hold it against him, wouldn’t demand anything of him. Hell, she likely charmed Hancock into weaseling her a discount like she charmed everyone in this pit.

Nick could deny the motives no longer. He just wanted to be her hero again. Swooping in at the last minute to make sure her life stayed comfortable, that their shared dream world wouldn’t end. Maybe he was sick enough to hope for another kiss on the cheek.

He hadn’t known that pang of frustrated embarrassment in so long, the kind that he used to bottle up in his chest until he broke down sobbing in the shower. That ache of inadequacy, the fear of rejection, the humiliation of being physically imposing and yet so emotionally fragile. Tears were meant for others, not for himself. But today, more than anything, Nick wished he could cry.

\---

If one word described this new world Nora lived in, it was dusty. It flew up her nose, itched at her eyes and face, seemed to be perpetually everywhere no matter how hard she cleaned. The Railroad never left a trace, which sometimes meant they never cleaned to begin with. If their hideaways looked manicured, centuries of dust wiped away, then the jig was up. At Old North Church, it practically snowed from the rafters. The flurries continued dancing in the summer light as Nora and Deacon finally reached its refuge.

“I’m parched, dude,” Deacon said, proceeding to the catacomb tunnel. “How about a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee sounds amazing,” Nora whispered, mouth dry from the unwise choice to chew gum on her hike. Chatting drew too much attention in the outer radius of the church. “It’s almost worth all the stupid crap you make me do.”

“I knew that’d sell ya on us. Sorry the retirement plan is more like ‘I’ll try to bandage you as you bleed out’.”

It rekindled a question Nora had had since the day she met him. “Why did _you_ join up?”

“Wanted to help,” he stated, voice bouncing on the cavern walls.

Nora impatiently snapped her gum. “You’ve implied Nick is the only reason you believe I would help the cause. So I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, a recruiter sought me out, and I just needed something to do.”

“You don’t just pass out job applications on the sidewalk, D.” Nora had the slippery liar in a corner, she just had to pursue him. “I know you wouldn’t dare mention the Railroad unless you had a damn good reason to believe they were an ally.”

Deacon shrugged it off. “They were sloppy before I stepped in.”

“That’s bullshit,” she taunted. “Classic Deacon bullshit.”

He let out a soft gasp. “I’d clutch my pearls, but I left them at home.”

“It’s deceptive, it’s vague, it sounds nice, _and_ it fluffs your ego.”

“Well, I can’t get mad at your dedication to sniff me out. Just proves I’ve taught you well.”

Nora stepped in front of him, blocking the bend in the narrow passageway. “Why do we have to keep so many secrets?”

“Secrets is my life,” he answered lightly. “It’s my job.”

“It just feels one sided.” Nora gestured between them. “You realize you’re expecting me to bond with a brick wall, right?”

He raised a brow. “No one ever asked you to share your life story, pal. And for all you know, on off hours I live in a mansion with my husband and three kids I popped out myself.” 

“We both have the baby weight,” she joked, and Deacon smirked.

“You’re free to speculate your little heart out about my past and my motives. But get it through your stubborn head that I’m not going to tell you.” 

“I get that you need to keep a secret identity, but what do you have to lose by telling me what made you so noble?”

“Because if my friends don’t know me, then how can my enemies?” He tapped his forehead.

“Then are you saying we’re friends?” she simpered back.

Deacon crossed his arms. “You can’t get shot in the heart if you’re always wearing a bullet-proof vest, y’know?”

“I’ve _never_ seen you in a bullet-proof vest.”

He hesitated and then screwed up his mouth. “God, no wonder everyone hated lawyers.” Deacon pushed her aside and continued down the tunnel.

“So I landed my point?” Nora chirped.

“No, you like to miss the point on purpose so you can throw out a bunch of ‘gotchas’ like sand in the eyes.”

“It sounds like you’re deflecting,” she called after him.

“You know what?” Deacon glanced over his shoulder. “I reserve my right to remain silent. How about that?”

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, but your boyfriend is.”

Nora smiled. “I said he’s not my boyfriend.”

“And I said I don’t need your life story.”

Nora followed closer behind him. “But what would you think if I said he _was_ my boyfriend?”

“Then all of this would make a hell of a lot more sense,” he said, waving his arms. “Not that sex needs to be involved to, like, _care_ about someone.”

“Now _you’re_ putting words in my mouth,” Nora said disapprovingly.

“How’s that?”

“I didn’t say anything about sex.” She felt a tad embarrassed and was suddenly glad the buttoned-up synth wasn’t present to hear. “I just said the word ‘boyfriend’.”

“I dunno how it was in your time, but that’s usually an allusion.”

“‘Husband’ would allude to more,” she countered. Maybe things _had_ changed. “I need genuine commitment before things can go that far.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he said, like she’d been the lewd one.

“You started it by calling him my ‘boyfriend’,” Nora said with exasperation. These misconceptions began to make her paranoid, prompting memories of classmates whispering behind her back in high school. “Actually, let’s get something straight. I’m not sleeping with any of my traveler partners, or have any plans to. So you can rest easy knowing I’m a sad widow with no love life.”

Deacon sighed like she’d beat him at a hand of poker. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“Help me?" Nora scoffed. “I know you want to police my relationships, but how is that helping _me?_ ”

“I’m not a misanthrope, I swear,” Deacon said. She only believed him because of his job description. “Like you deduced back at the bar, I need you to understand relationships of all kinds can be your Achilles’ heel in battle. Friendships included.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you’re holding out on me,” Nora deadpanned.

He turned around at the security door. “A bond is important on the field, but if one of my missions fail because you were too interested in protecting a ‘friend’, I dunno if I could forgive you.” Deacon’s tone was as cold, but there was also a waver in it. Nora wondered if he dreaded being vulnerable enough to _have_ a friend. A real one, who would go out for drinks and embrace someone’s truth without judgement.

She pursed her lips. “What about if I was doing it to protect the best agent the Railroad’s ever had?”

Deacon stared for a moment, and then a smile crept across his face. “Aw. You charmer.”

In law school she learned so much boiled down to semantics. People would admit to unspeakable things as long as you spun it how they liked, letting their attorneys read between the lines to avoid plain terms. Whether privy to it or not, Deacon also worked this way; allergic to words that clashed with his image. He only liked ‘family’ when it was self-deprecating, ‘sister’ if it was patronizing, ‘friend’ if it was sarcastic. But if he didn’t want those concepts to apply to Nora, then why did he try so hard to teach her how he ticked? Like he wanted this to work even off the clock?

As they traversed the final staircase to HQ, a commotion reverberated up the steps. Heated voices, constant shuffling, louder and louder as the echoes layered upon themselves. It didn’t sound particularly joyful, but no one sounded in trouble either.

“Well, this wasn’t what I expected to walk in on,” Deacon said, visibly perturbed by the activity in the usually sleepy cavern. Agents ran to and fro, stuffing things into bags and filing through papers. Tinker Tom sported headphones and argued with Glory, emphatically trying to explain something. “But, like the old song goes… Everybody’s working on the weekend.”

“That’s… not how it goes,” Nora whispered.

Deacon grabbed Drummer Boy as he tried to pass. “Hey man, don’t tell me we’re bugging already.”

“New message from Patriot.”

“And?”

“ _And?”_ Drummer Boy shook his head. “You’re intel, I’m just the messenger.”

“ _Or did you forget?”_ Dr. Carrington’s voice cut in. He glowered at the spy while tidying up his station. “You’ve been playing day camp counselor so often, one could ask if you even know what goes on here anymore.”

“I’d still know more than you, Doc,” Deacon jeered, the medic seeming to get under his skin. And who could blame him; this job _wa_ s his life. He turned to Nora, calmer but still as serious. “Sorry I can’t make good on that coffee.”

“It’s for the best,” Nora said. “I’d be off the damn walls if I had caffeine with _this_ adrenaline rush.”

“No high like it,” Deacon said, cracking a smirk. He crossed the chamber to the quartermaster’s desk, where Tom and Glory remained bickering. “What’s the sitch, where’s Dez?” he asked them.

“Dez is consulting PAM," Glory said. 

“Obviously,” Deacon grumbled.

Tom swung around in frustration. “And _I’m_ trying to crack a cypher by my damn self.”

“Can’t you just run it through the ole Trinity thingy?” Deacon asked.

“It didn’t work this time,” Tom said, rolling his seat aside so Deacon could read his terminal screen. “Thought he was doing Pi again, but then it stopped making sense.”

Nora peered over at Glory. “I know I’m a heavy, but should I know what this means?”

“Our guy on the inside switched up his coding,” Glory said. “Big sign that shit is serious.”

“So does that mean we move soon?” Nora said.

“Can’t be sure until it’s cracked,” Tom said and glared up at Glory. “Which is why I need her to _stop helping._ ”

“You said you couldn’t do it by yourself,” she shrugged and turned back to Nora. “What am I supposed to do, count my ammo for the hundredth time? I’m ready to get out there.”

Nora sat on the opposite desk. “I’m glad you’re excited and not… nervous.”

“How could I not be excited? I didn’t join up to sit on my ass.” Glory grinned. “And before you know it, I’ll have my best friend back.”

Nora smiled back. “And I can’t wait to meet her.” She paused, not quite sure how this all worked. “ _Will_ I meet her?”

“I dunno who is gonna get assigned who, but if you get a tiny brunette with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen… Tell her I said ‘Hi’.”

“Oh, so you like me because I _look_ like her too.”

“Maybe. She’s way paler, though. They don’t have the sun down there.” Glory sighed wistfully. “Damn, I wonder if she’ll like the sun.”

“Speaking of friends,” Nora asked the group, “did Nick stop by yet?”

“Nope, no Nick,” Glory said.

Deacon crossed his arms. “See what I mean? Chronically late.”

“Don’t you have a code to _de-_ code?” Nora asked.

“Eh, the old computer is slow as shit,” Deacon said. “Just like your boyfriend.”

Tom glanced up. “Boyfriend?”

“ _No,”_ Nora replied flatly.

“Hey, to each her own,” Tom muttered and went back to calibrating a cypher.

Nora fanned herself, the commotion all around her raising the temperature of the normally mild catacomb. The weather had made Nick’s limitations clearer to her; yet another man pretending to be indestructible. 

“Maybe it’s better he didn’t rush,” she mused.

Glory raised her brows. “What, you’re not disappointed?”

Nora shrugged and popped her gum. “He’s only human,” she said, and smiled. “No offense.”

\---

When the height of summer arrived in Diamond City, so did the tourists. Out-of-towners made the trek for its various festivals, reviving the economy after the deadzone that came with the New England winter. Nick often felt pressured to make himself scarce on days like these, but scheduling his life with the events calendar was the furthest thing from his mind.

New faces gawked at the mechanical man as he lurched into the stadium. People tumbled out of his way and even yelped for guards, but he didn’t have the reserves to explain himself or even look more presentable. If it drove away business, the city could hike Nick’s rent again for all he cared. Perhaps Nora could find some law where he never had to deal with McDonough’s polite threats again.

With his final ounce of willpower, Nick pushed open his office door. It felt heavier than he remembered, like the hinges had broken, or perhaps he was simply the weakest he’d ever been.

Ellie sat at his desk, frozen amid filing her nails. _“Nick?”_ she gawked, as if caught roosting on a monarch’s throne.

“Didn’t mean to frighten ya, hun,” he breathed.

“It’s not that, I…” she trailed off as he clumsily dropped his bags like they were training weights. “What’s wrong?” 

“I failed,” he groaned.

Her eyes darted between him and the pile of the floor. “ _Oh no._ What happened to Nora?”

“Huh?” Nick noticed her pack amongst the fray. “ _Oh —_ No, everything’s _fine!”_ He let out a tired chuckled, trying to convince himself of it too. “I just figured it’d be better if I walk at night.”

Ellie rubbed her temple. “You can’t just show up half a day later than expected, acting like someone _died,_ Nick.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Guess I’m just a little disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Ellie balked. “Isn’t that Nora’s job? I mean, you have her bag.”

“Feel like I let her down, is all,” Nick murmured and lethargically took off his coat. It caught around his elbows, trapping him in an awkward contortion. “Maybe I’m not the bot I used to be.”

Ellie set down her nail file with a sigh, and went to help her hopeless boss. “If she wanted a butler, she would’ve had Codsworth do it. In fact, you should’ve sent him out. I’m sure he would’ve been _thrilled_ to go on another adventure _.”_

That was true. But Nick wanted to be the one to deliver it to her.

“Now,” Ellie said, “your first problem is you left your coat on, you old coot.” She pulled it off his arms.

“I couldn’t get out of it,” he mumbled, and Ellie nudged him towards his chair. “My shoulder pistons were startin’ to fail.”

Ellie hung up his coat and switched on the table fan. “Nick, you’re a wonderful synth, but me, and the Wrights, _and_ Nora would rather you stay functional than make an overnight delivery.” 

The cool air hit him, rushing through his ears and down the gaps in his seams. Nick stared at his grimy ashtray and thought about lighting up. Was his cigarette habit just another destructively selfish act of escapism? 

Ellie settled into the chair across from him. He remembered the night Nora sat there, cheeks stained with tears, shaky as a wounded doe rather than the determined tigress who pulled him out of that Vault.

“Is there anything else wrong, or is it just the heat?” Ellie asked.

“I’m good, it’s fine,” he answered reflexively.

“Then can you stop looking like you got dumped?” Ellie asked. Nick’s gaze snapped upwards. More and more he learned that despite being observant as a profession, he sure as hell couldn’t keep a secret. “I just had the first solo case of my life, I would like to feel a little celebratory,” she huffed. “I mean, Piper and I did go out drinking last night, but she’s not the one who promised an eight-year-old she’d be a detective one day.”

“Only took you two decades, eh?” he joked.

Ellie crossed her arms. “That’s a great point. You could’ve sent me out on one years ago.”

“I didn’t think you were ready,” Nick admitted. Ellie would be thirty before he knew it, but all he could see was the morbid little girl who used to stalk him through the slums of Goodneighbor, begging for a true crime story.

“I’ve spent my entire adult life working for you,” his secretary lamented. “What could I possibly do to prove I’m ready?”

“Well, for one; you giggle every time a stranger says you pretty.”

Ellie giggled in surprise and he pointed emphatically. “Alright. _Fine.”_ She leaned back in the chair and peered down her nose at him. “But I _am_ still miffed that you let Nora do things before me, considering she couldn’t even figure out how to load a rifle.”

“Maybe seeing her adapt so well has made me realize I’ve been too clingy.” He sighed. “Thinking about being in this office _alone_ again always scared me. Accidents happen.” He stared down at his feet.

Ellie exhaled, but it was too knowing. Nick gritted his teeth and tried to think nothing of it. “And Nora is with a friend?” she asked. “Someone you trust?”

“Trust ain’t exactly the word,” Nick grumbled and rolled his neck. “More like he’s not stupid to let anything bad happen to her. ‘Cause he knows I’d kill him.”

“A guy, huh?” Ellie asked plainly.

“You think men ain’t sharp with a gun?” Nick deflected.

“I haven’t met any that sharp to begin with,” she chided, and Nick laughed. “Speaking of men whose heads aren’t screwed on…” Ellie sat upwards. “Seems my client never actually got pickpocketed.”

“Oh?” Nick straightened up as well, glad to change the subject to something more routine. “Scammin’ for the insurance money, then?”

“Nothing devious like that. He had a hole in his trouser pocket the night he wanted to propose.”

“Seems like that was a hard one to miss.”

“Harder still,” she said, perching on the edge of her seat. “His boyfriend sewed it up before he could notice.” Ellie smiled. “The necklace was in the double lining of the pant leg the whole time.” Nick laughed again. “Neither of them knew!”

“Nora would love that one,” he said, and his heart deflated despite the buoyant story. “Wish she was here to hear it, but she’ll be indisposed this weekend.”

“I’ll tell her when she gets back,” Ellie said incredulously. “Jeez, you keep acting like she’s not gonna be in here laughing and driving you nuts by Monday or whatever.”

“You know how I get.” He dipped his head back and watched the ceiling fan above. It’s familiar hypnotic movement often helped him focus in on cracking a mystery. “Now that I’m coolin’ off, I realize I get so _down_ on myself when I fail to finish a task.”

“Summer turns you into such a drama king,” Ellie teased. “Bring it to her tonight!” Nick stared at her in confoundment. Maybe it _wasn’t_ too late. It was a Friday afternoon, sure, but he never asked if the weekend started at midnight sharp. “But first buy me an ice cream for doing such a great job.”

He pretended to mull it over. “Alright, I guess since you solved the case, you get to spend the money.”

“See?” She rose from her chair. “Finally got your head back on.”

The only way he’d know for sure is when he saw Nora. Tomorrow. The longest tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK if that was a heavy chapter, but people are working through their issues, gotta feel out their relationships, give 'em a little time. I feel a little bad when I separate Nora and Nick too, but absence makes the heart yadda-yadda.
> 
> I'm thinking there will be two more chapters to this particular one, depending on how fast I go. Next update will have more quests, more drama, more revelations so stay tuned. I've almost reached my buffer again and hopefully updates will be more common. Thanks for sticking with me, I hope you've all been OK over the break.

**Author's Note:**

> Plugging [my main blog](http://television-for-dinner.tumblr.com/tagged/fic+stuff), my [my art/fanworks blog](http://tommytonebender.tumblr.com). I also have a [Writing Twitter](http://https://twitter.com/retr0vertig0) that is NOT spoiler free, so follow that at your own risk.


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